Ns wat903

A bag full of dirt spoke to the gravel,

Thus the gravel only grumbled,

when the road of mud kept its mouth shut.

A passing tumbleweed slew some hushed dirt,

then that red rock dust did shiver,

enabling the pebbles on a square foot of dryness shuffle.

What dust we are,

dust we stay,

only a wind can carry us in a hurry.

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